


The Beds We Lie In

by Islandinyoureyes



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Abusive Parents, Drug Use, First Time, Friendship/Love, Johnlock - Freeform, Kidlock, M/M, Teenlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-04
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-16 02:01:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2251686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Islandinyoureyes/pseuds/Islandinyoureyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story that follows Sherlock Holmes and John Watson through the different beds they occupy throughout their lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dawn

"Daily dawns another day; I must up, to make my way. Though I dress and drink and eat, Move my fingers and my feet, Learn a little, here and there, Weep and laugh and sweat and swear, Hear a song, or watch a stage, Leave some words upon a page, Claim a foe, or hail a friend- Bed awaits me at the end."

Dorothy Parker, The Portable Dorothy Parker

 

 

> * * *

 

John Hamish Watson was born on a warm summer day in 1974.

And all around him, life was beautiful. The birds were singing and the bees pollinated happily with a busy hum. In Diane Watson's mind there could not have been a more beautiful child ever born. 

His baby skin was already tinged with a warm glow and a scattering of short fuzzy blonde hair rested peacefully upon his round head. But most poignant were his bright blue eyes. A color, which, Diane was convinced, that was deeper than the ocean and more vast than the sky itself. Her son was beautiful and she wished the world for him.

Unfortunately, she had much less than the world to give.

For all that Diane loved and adored John there was something she felt for ten times as strongly. Spirits. 

And from the moment Diane came home from the hospital she was again submerged into a world of sin and darkness. John was left behind. Forgotten in the pile of things Diane labelled unimportant. Included in this category were things such as proper food, sobriety, and taxes. Brought to the forefront of her mind were drugs, men, and sex with said men. 

So, as Diane gallivanted across Bristol, young John Watson was left cotless, fatherless, and under appreciated. Instead John shared a filthy mattress with his mother, a slew of lovers Diane took on, and dirty nappies induced by few feedings. 

In general the men were nice. They'd come to the flat and offer curt greetings to the blissfully mumbling John. They were all captured in the spell of John's general magnetism. They'd come and go offering  presents of orgasm, drugs, and food to Diane Watson.  

And it was in these circumstances that John grew. Though his surroundings were less than Buckingham Palace he was still able to become a perfect young gent. John avoided the same vices which plagued his mother and applied himself vigorously to the challenge of being able to serve queen and country. From the ripe old age of four John decided he was going to be a doctor. In his pure young mind doctors saved the world from impropriety and sadness.  He got this notion from none other than Diane Watson upon his first visit to A&E.

John was outside playing hopscotch on the deck. He was jumping enthusiastically when he slipped and fell down the stairs. Immediately, he burst into tears and his wails could be heard far and wide. Diane ran to help her ailing boy in one of her few sober attempts at motherhood. She dashed out the flat and down the stairs to a distressed John. 

"What's wrong love? What's happened here?"

John looked up at her through watery eyes and answered in little more than a sob-filled whisper, "I... I fell downtha stairs when I was playing hopscotch."

It was in this moment that John looked down and evaluated his wounds. He had a bloody knee and he couldn't quite move his ankle right. This development caused John to wail even more. Diane enveloped him in her body an held him in a warm and loving embrace.

"Shhh, love. It'll be alright we'll just take you to hospital."

"Bu... But mum. I..."

"Its alright come on."

She picked him up and carried him to the car. After checking into hospital, they waited patiently and eventually were led to the exam room. As John waited on the hospital bed  for the doctor, he decided to share a secret with his mother. 

"Mum?" She turned towards him and offered a half hearted smile. 

He continued, "I'm a little afraid doctors."

"Doctors?" she chuckled and hugged his little body closer. "Why John doctors are the best sorts of people ever. They can cure your booboos..." Diane bent over and kissed his hurt ankle causing a blush to emerge on John's cheeks. "They can fly around in big blue boxes." She tickled his stomach causing him to erupt in giggles. "And most importantly they can take away one’s sadness."

"They can do all that?

"Uh-huh." 

John looked as if he was going to speak again but it was in that moment that the doctor walked in. He completed his examination on John and patched him up. Diane and John Watson walked out of A&E and happily back to their car. John had been mostly silent since their little talk but it was as they were approaching their home that he turned to her and spoke in that cute four year old voice. 

"Mum why are you always so sad?"

Diane was startled. In all of her drunkenness and sadness Diane thought that John had been none the wiser of her mistakes. 

"I'm not sad love, I'm just driving."

He thought for a moment then said, "No. You're sad I see it in your eyes." 

Diane looked at her son. Her beautiful boy with deeper-than-ocean eyes and warm sun kissed skin. She looked at him and all the pain she felt on the inside was forced to come out. Diane pulled over and cried deep heartfelt tears that caused her to shake over the steering wheel. She let all the hurt and pain she felt be emptied on the side of the road.

Then she straightened up lit a cigarette and put the car into gear. 

John had been silent during the whole ordeal but when they parked in front of their small flat he turned to her and said, "It's okay mum, I'm gunna be a doctor. They can fix sadness ya know?" 

She looked at John once more then took the boy into her arms. Diane rubbed his hair and took in his scent. Young and fresh. She squeezed him one last time then let him go. 

"I know." she smiled and helped John out of the car and into the flat. She knew she had to change and for John she'd try to do just that. 

 


	2. A Star is Born

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Checking in on the Holmes family.

Intellectual growth should commence at birth and cease only at death.

 

> Albert Einstein

 

* * *

 

"Violeeeeeeeeeet!"

William Holmes screamed up at his incredibly pregnant wife who was also incredibly giving birth. He stood in the center of their semicircle driveway in the front of their Buckinghamshire Manor waiting impatiently for his wife.

Since the discovery of her water breaking Violet had been preening herself to perfection. Though she was an incredibly beautiful woman, her self esteem had suffered a serious blow during the tedious pregnancy. Her once slim waist was blown out to the size of a watermelon, her wild curls neglected, and her face void of makeup. Violet felt disgusting and despite her husband's constant assurance she couldn't bear the way she looked.

Violet stepped into her lush shower  and washed away the signs of her current labour. While in the shower she thought of baby names once more. Violet had been through dozens of names but just could not settle.  She despised ordinary names such as Sally and Christopher, and would be disgusted if her son had to withstand blending in with such plebes. This however was a thought for later.

The mother to be stepped out of the shower faced by her full length mirror. She stared at her naked form taking in the way the baby had morphed her. Violet frowned and dried herself off.

"My cheekbones are too sharp. Nose too pointy. And my thighs?" She glanced in the mirror again. "Good lord I've a lard arse!"

"Violet!" William screamed again. He was fed up, he couldn't wait another moment for the arrival of their son. He turned hastily to their driver, Mr. Jones Stapleton, in an aggravated huff and said, "Dammit Jones, if that woman takes another minute prepping for the hospital I think I shall deliver the blasted little bugger myself!"

It was that moment in which Violet Holmes chose to walk out, dressed to the nines, magnificent baby bump and all.

"I don't know why you insist upon being on a first name basis with all our staff."

William looked thrown and Stapleton stood in the wise and respectful way he always did. Violet walked indignantly past her husband and stood beside the door waiting for Stapleton to take action, looking for all the world like a queen and not a woman who was having regular contractions.

As if on cue Stapleton opened the back door of the sleek black 1951 Bristol 401 BMW and let Violet in. William scooted in awkwardly after his wife.

"Violet darling I have told you this a million times: Jones is more than just staff..." His face twisted as if the word left a bad taste in his mouth. "Jones is family! He practically raised me Violet, and I would appreciate it if today of all days you not pester me on matters of family."

While William was chattering on about what Violet assumed was nothing, she had been adjusting her long midnight curls into a shiny black chignon. William harrumphed knowing that his wife had not been listening and turned away from her towards the window. She took his chin in her hands, and gingerly turned his face towards hers, then kissed his mouth quickly, and responded with a, "Yes dear."

William satisfied, smiled, then looked around suddenly realizing something was missing.

"Dear?" she said.

"Hm?"

"Where on Earth is Myke?"

William look startled, "Dear God! Mycroft, yes well... I suppose he's with the nanny."

"I want Myke there for the birth of his brother." Violet turned. "Stapleton!"

"Yes ma'am?"

"Go get Mycroft."

"Yes ma'am." And with that, Stapleton was off.

William Holmes looked lovingly at his wife and said with a sly smile, "You are incredibly hot."

"Stop it, right now! I have no use for petty lie-"

William cut her off with a loving kiss.

"You... Are... Beautiful..." He punctuated each word with a kiss down her neck. "Point blank." another kiss. "I love you, Mycroft loves you and the baby..." he looked at her stomach like it was golden. "The baby. Shall. Adore you." He peppered her with kisses and kissed her once more on the lips for good measure.

She smoothed out her royal blue dress and patted William on the hand. "Will I..." she stopped abruptly interrupted by another contraction. "Get Mycroft now!" Violet ordered.

"On it!" William dashed out of the car and into the house. The scene he was met with was heartwarmingly adorable.

Mycroft was wrapped possessively around the nanny's, leg. He was arguing with Stapleton vehemently about why he shouldn't go to the hospital.

"It's simply out of the question Jones! I can't go."

"Why not?" asked Stapleton.

"Well..." Mycroft looked torn, as if revealing his master plan would ruin the success of it all. "If I don't go to the hospital then mummy won't go. And if mummy doesn't go then she can't have the stupid baby."

"Well I never!" Stapleton, the nanny, and William shared a chuckle over the innocence of youth.

"Mycroft," William starts. "Mummy's going to have the baby no matter what we do. And, this baby isn't going to cause Mummy to love you any less or treat you any differently."

Mycroft paused and considered this statement, then answered, "Yes, but it is going to be terribly messy."  

William laughed again and scooped Mycroft from the nanny's legs and into his arms.

"Hm, quite. I suppose you'll have to keep your hair on and help the little mess."

William carried Mycroft to the car with Stapleton trailing close behind. They all took their designated spots in the vehicle. Stapleton at the wheel and William and Violet in the back making a Holmes sandwich with Mycroft in the middle.

The ride to the hospital was a tedious one. Violet reapplied makeup constantly, Mycroft was mentally adjusting his plans to verify the child never saw the light of day, and William was caught up in the storm of being the "normal one." After what seemed like years they arrived at hospital to deliver their little miracle.

When Violet was finally dilated ten centimeters, she was wheeled off to the delivery room of the private hospital. William and Violet were alone in the room and Mycroft sat outside the room with Stapleton. For all the mass she had acquired during the pregnancy, she had never looked so small.. He looked at her and squeezed her hand lovingly. She winked at him, took a deep breath and mouthed I love you. The gave each other a reassuring kiss and in walked the doctor to begin labour.

* * *

 

After the delivery of a healthy baby boy on January 6, 1976 weighing in at 3.1 kilograms and 51 centimeters tall, Violet Holmes was completely sated. Violet slept for what seemed like days and woke to the sight of a tall slim William Holmes clutching his newborn son with Mycroft at his side, staring in childlike wonder. She smiled sleepily and opened her arms to welcome her Holmes boys.

"Violet! Welcome back to the world of the living." said William with a smile. "I was afraid you'd miss everything."

Violet huffed, "Oh, stop. Let me see him."

William walked over and handed her their son. He had a head full of fluffy dark curls and startling gray eyes.

Violet looked disappointed, "Weird looking thing isn't he?"

"He looks just like you Vi." said William.

"Yes, we'll..."

"Have you settled out a name yet?"

She smiled at this and looked fondly at her husband. "Of course. He shall be William Sherlock Scott Holmes."

William bent over the hospital bed and kissed his wife lovingly. Mycroft, in turn shuffled in disgust.

William stood and said, “We’ll call him Sherlock.

“Sherlock… Hm. Hello Sherlock, I’m your big brother Mycroft,” He spoke and shook Sherlock’s tiny hand. He responded with a soft gurgle. Mycroft smiled.

“He likes you!” William said.

“I like him too.”  

Violet had lost a great deal of blood during birth. The doctors required her to stay the night in the postnatal ward just to be safe.

After holding Sherlock once, Violet fell asleep. From that point on he was left to the care of the midwives and his father.  Everyone was putting up a lot of fuss over the baby. They fed him, took measurements, and oggled. Mycroft vowed to go over and see what the big deal was himself, but soon grew bored with it all and fell asleep. However, the unfamiliar surroundings made it difficult for him to stay that way. So soon Mycroft found himself awake and surrounded by sleeping beings. Stapleton had gone back to the Holmes Manor and Mummy and Father were deep in repose. He took this time to get to know his baby brother.

Mycroft walked over to the cot and looked at the other sleeping Holmes. He was so small.

“Hello there Sherlock,” Mycroft said. “It’s me, Mycroft… I suppose I just wanted to let you know, it’s all right. I’m here for you. Father says I must help you so I will. I shall fight to the death for you Sherlock. I promise. Because, well… I don’t have anyone to do that for me and I want to make sure you do.” Mycroft stopped and observed his sleeping brother once more. “I think that sentiment is appalling. Like some sort of chemical defect. But it seems I can’t help but love you.” He held out a short seven year old finger and stroked Sherlock's cheek. Sherlock stirred then opened his eyes. Mycroft immediately retracted his hand. Sherlock gave him about two seconds of silence before breaking out into a fierce cry.

A midwife soon was there to handle the niceties of childcare. Mycroft went back to the chair next to his father and resumed watch over his brother. A circumstance that Mycroft was sure he’d be in often for all of his life.


	3. A Stranger in Our Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hanging out with the Watsons today.  
> Warning for homophobia and physical abuse

> Immature love says: 'I love you because I need you.' Mature love says: 'I need you because I love you.'
> 
> \- Erich Fromm
> 
> * * *
> 
>  

It was a quiet Friday evening and as John was making his way home from school his mother was making her way with a man.

Diane lay naked on her bed, looking up at her lover through her blonde fringe. She was a bland looking woman. Through the years her appearance has caused her to look to men to make her feel more ravishing. And for all the men she slept with, none made her feel quite so stunning as Mark Jackson.

Mark stood an impressive 6’10, he had deep muddy eyes and a muscular build that suggested athletic prowess in his youth. However, the years had taken away some of his appeal. His once tone stomach had become pudgy, his dark brown hair was beginning to thin and gray. His shit personality and alcoholism did nothing to help. He was a crude man, with no taste or decency. Mark did however have money. For this quality alone, Diane was willing to see past all his shortcomings. She had devoted all her energy to having Mark and all the money that came with him. Diane was determined to become Mrs. Jackson, if it was the last thing she’d do.

“Come on baby.” Diane whispered playfully. She pulled off Mark’s dirty wife beater and slowly unbuttoned his jeans. “Don’t keep me waiting all day.”

Mark let out a sly smile and said, “I would never.”

The sex was torrid and rough. Diane wasn’t sure if it had the same numbing effect it used to. She looked into his eyes and saw raw lust, no care or delicacy. It made her sick. As Mark rode his way to orgasm she turned away and let a tear roll gently down her cheek.

Where had she gone wrong? More importantly when had she ever gone right? Diane was lost in a cloud of thought. She barely heard the door to her small flat being opened or closed and it wasn’t until Mark had pulled out that she even realized he had came.

“What the fuck?” Mark said as he pulled on his pants yelling at a bemused John Watson. “Who’s the fucking kid Diane?”

She snapped out of her haze. “John? John!”

John stood numb, in the middle of their living room not speaking or moving. He only looked up terrified at a ruffled Mark. Diane pulled the sheet around her and stood.

“Is this your kid?” Mark asked.

Diane ran to her son, blatantly ignoring Mark. “John, John. You’re home early.”

“No I’m not, I’m always home this time.”

“Diane!” Mark yelled.

“What time is it?” She looked around for a clock, dazed and confused.

“Diane, who’s the fucking kid? He’s not yours is he?”

“Shut up! I’m trying to--” Diane was cut off by a slap to the face. She fell to the floor with a thud.

“You don’t tell me to shut up bitch!” Mark was fuming, he knelt down to shout in her face. “Is this fucking perv kid yours?” He pointed towards John.

She clutched her face and stuttered, “Y-yes, he’s my son.”

John ran to Mark, bookbag and all. He grabbed his leg and began hitting it as hard as he could. Mark shook him off with little effort.

He begun to laugh and backed away from the both of them. “You’ve got a perv kid Diane.” He pushed John on the ground. “And I know, I saw this little cock gobbler staring at my dick! Didya see him just feel me up?”

Diane, dropped the sheets and hit Mark with all her force. “Get out! Get the fuck out! You will not talk about my son you asshole!” Diane began to throw his clothes at him.

“Have it your way Diane. But, I just thought I’d let you know what I saw.”

She ran her fingers through her hair and pointed towards the door. Mark walked to the door, paused and nodded at Diane, and walked out.

John felt disgusted. He had never known why his mother felt the need to be with so many men, especially scum like him. John set his bookbag down and took a seat on the sofa, which had become his bed. Sleeping with his mother was fine and dandy when he was little but doing it at age nine was ridiculous. Not to mention he was disgusted by all the things that he knew happened in it.

Diane walked slowly to the refrigerator for a beer, shrugging on a robe as she went. John watched quietly from the sofa, seeds of anger budding in him. He watched as she headed towards the bathroom. She went in to do God knows what but stopped abruptly at the doorway and turned to him.

“Do you want to ruin everything?”

John looked puzzled, “What?”

“Do you want to ruin everything? Because that’s what you’ve done.” She steamrolled towards him. “That guy, was our only chance out of here and you had to fuck it all up!”

“Mum! I--” Johns anger was beginning to course through his veins. “Wait, no. This is not good. I come home to you, you,” he gestured towards the bed and made a noise, “with that beast!”

Diane slapped John. “He, is Mark Jackson. And he’s got a construction company all of his own. I mean, he sees more money in a month than we do in a year! And he is going to be your stepfather, whether you like it or not.” She backed up a little and took swig of her beer. “Call him, tell him, ‘I’m sorry for looking at your dick, mummy really likes you!’ or some crap like that.”

John was stunned by the events of the evening. He was beet red and brimming with anger. John balled up his fist and grudgingly agreed.

“That’s a good boy.” She kissed his forehead and handed him her phone. Although John had agreed to call, he didn’t feel ready to do it just yet. There was too much pent up anger and he was likely to cause himself more trouble.

Hours later, when he did call, he was greeted by an incredibly apologetic Mark Jackson. John thought the phone call was excruciating. Mark had an air of condescension that was not deserved and a shockingly polite tone. It all felt wrong. When John finally said that his mom really liked him, Mark sounded ecstatic. He said he really liked her too and wanted to make things up to them both. He was no Romeo, but Mark’s attitude on the phone was a stark contrast to the man who had defiled his home. Mark claimed he was going to be busy the next few days but wanted to go out to eat with John and his mom. Initially John declined and he could sense the crass anger developing in Mark again. But, he swallowed it down and extended the offer once more. This time Diane insisted John say yes. John handed the phone to his mother to handle the details.

John sighed and began his homework. When had this become his life?

* * *

 

It was the following Wednesday, when John was woken from his post-school nap by an eager and surprisingly sober Diane Watson.

“Wake up love!”

“Wha-?” John said as he stretched from the awkward position he had fallen asleep in.

“Mark” she paused, “you remember Mark don’t you?” John nodded sleepily. “Well anyway he called and he’s gunna take us on that dinner he promised us! Isn’t that exciting?”

John jerked up and spoke, “But mum, I don’t wanna go!”

“Now come one love you know we need this… him! How d’ya expect to pay for that fancy brain surgeon school you're hoping to go to without it?”

John stayed silent. He hated Mark and the way he treated them. But he was steadfast if nothing else and his mother’s hope for a brighter future was enough to keep him pliant. John smiled in a manner he hoped would convince his mother that he was truly happy with this plan.

“That’s a good boy! Now go and get your jacket on. He’ll be here any minute.”

John sighed and ran to get his jacket from his corner of the bedroom. He tried to keep the few possessions he had as neat as possible and in the corner away from the chaos that was Diane Watson.

When John ran back to his mother he was greeted by the startling image of Mark Jackson kissing his mother passionately. No, not quite right. Kissing doesn’t describe it. What Mark was doing was sucking Diane’s soul out through her mouth, not to mention the crude way he was touching  her.

John coughed half in warning half in disgust. Diane ceased the kiss and turned around abruptly.

“Oh John, cummon. Let’s go.”

Mark made a face but kept his mouth shut.

The car ride was torture. It was filled with boorish and annoying stories that John hated. This man was the epitome of grime. Why on earth had his mother chosen him of all people? It was just like his teacher, Ms. Kinsella, always says, “There are plenty o’ fish in the sea.”

John sighed, defeated, and asked his mother for gum. She passed him a piece and he began to chew enthusiastically, taking in his surrounding.

The sights were very different from what he was used to. No familiar alleyways or business, just bright booming eccentricities. And now that John thought about it they had been driving for an incredibly long time. They had to be far out of Bristol.

“Mum, where are we going?”

“Just to a chippy love.”

“Whats the matter kid?” barked Mark, “Ain’t you ever seen London?”

“We’re going to London just for fish and chips?” John replied flabbergasted. He was bouncing in his seat, childlike wonder talking over his once stoic form.

“Well, Mark here thought you’d might like to see the sights as well John.” Diane said as she rubbed lazy circles on Marks back.

“Well, uh, thanks. Mark. I, I mean, uh, sir… I, uh.”

Mark surprisingly chuckled and said, “No problem kid.”

Soon they arrived at the fish-and-chip shop. John survived a surprisingly painless dinner. Although Mark was no less a jerk, the allure of London was able to distract John from the more ludicrous things that spewed from Marks mouth and the obscene display his mother was making with Mark.

“Hey little man,” said Mark. “Where to next?”

John’s eyes lit up with as he spoke, “Oh, Big Ben! No…I wanna ride the tube. Wait! I got it. Buckingham Palace!”

Diane laughed, “What are you going to do at Buckingham? Steal an ashtray?”

“No, I could um….”

“How ‘bout we go to the park?” said Mark.

Diane turned towards him, confusion showing in her eyes. “You sure? I mean, you really don’t have to--”

“No Diane I wanna do this.”

“Okay.”

They crowded into Mark’s shabby pick up truck once more and headed for St. James’s Park.

When they arrived it was beginning to get dark but that only made the park appear more mysterious and fun to John. He trotted happily along the path trailed by his mother and Mark. He would stop occasionally to pick up a flower or play doctor with a none too willing bird. On one of those stops he noticed his companions had ceased walking as well.

He turned around to see Mark sinking to one knee and reaching for his pocket.

Diane stood in awe, with hands covering her mouth and tears welling up in her eyes. John ran back to be close to the stunning sight.

Mark reached out to grab one of Diane’s hands.

“Diane Joan Watson. You crazy girl. I know I’ve only known you for a short time, but you’re everything to me. And I’m hoping to become everything to you. So I thought I might ask… will you marry me? ”

She dropped the hand that remained on her face revealing a toothy grin.

“Of course you crazy bastard!” Diane screamed. Mark slid the ring on her finger and stood up to meet Diane with a kiss. They stood in the middle of a walkway in St. James’s Park kissing for a long time, when Diane finally remembered her son.

“Isn’t this great John? You’ve got a dad!” Diane knelt down and gave John a warm hug and a kiss. John looked up at Mark over his mothers shoulders at Mark and shivered.

The look he was greeted with was cold and unforgiving. Not that of a dad at all. But he closed his eyes and clung to his mom even tighter.

“I hope this makes you happy.”

* * *

 

John laid back in his seat and looked at his mother as they headed home.

Was she finally happy? He couldn’t tell. John loved his mother so much, but as he aged he began to realize she wasn’t the paragon of virtue he once thought she was. Sadness had plagued her for so long that he couldn’t remember what happiness looked like on that face. She was looking out of the window. Dark shadows rested under her eyes and her face appeared sunken and far too thin. She looked down at her hand and smiled fondly at the new piece of jewelry.

John realized what this moment was. He felt the wrong deep through out him. This was the beginning of the end.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the amount of time between posts. Life has been getting in the way.  
> I do promise to update more regularly. Scouts honor.


	4. Young Pirates and Such

By this time the soldier was reduced to a mere lump, and when the maid took away the ashes next morning she found him, in the shape of a small tin heart. All that was left of the dancer was her spangle, and that was burnt as black as a coal.”   
― Hans Christian Andersen,  _The Steadfast Tin Soldier_

* * *

 

The months succeeding Sherlock’s birth started out incredibly hectic. Family and friends unspoken to for months came just to ooh and aah over the new baby. They brought gifts and a charming energy to the Holmes household. However, it was not long until the Holmes family fell back into the swing of the life.

Slowly but surely Violets body morphed back into the tight and toned form it once had been. She also lost most if not all of her interest in her sons, disregarding them in favor of science and mathematics. As loving as William was, soon, he too was drawn away from their sons captivated by the mysteries of the world.

Sherlock in turn was left primarily in the hands of Stapleton and Mycroft. To most, this might seem a startling pair to raise a child; a seven-year-old and a man old enough to be his grandfather, however, Sherlock was surprisingly content. He aged magnificently reaching and surpassing the expected milestones at a startling pace. All milestones, that is, excluding speech. Before long, Sherlock’s first birthday had arrived and he was yet to speak a word.

Mycroft, oblivious to the ordinary developmental patterns of infants, thought nothing of it. Stapleton however, was becoming more and more worried. It was on the eve of Sherlock’s first birthday party that he decided to broach this subject to Violet and William Holmes.

When Sherlock was asleep, Stapleton walked to the study of Violet Holmes and tapped lightly on her door.

“Yes,” Violet responded.

Stapleton was overcome by a sudden wave of anxiety. Bringing the subject to light, especially to Violet, was going to be no easy task.

“Well?” Violet spoke again. There was silence for a moment then the familiar click-clack of heels could be heard heading to the door. Suddenly the door was thrown open and a very prim Violet Holmes stood on the other side. “What on earth have you bothered me for? I was in the middle of a very important calculation.”

“Ma’am, I--” Stapleton started.

“Good, God. Get on with it man, I’ve things to do!”

“It’s about Sherlock.”

Violet had begun to walk back to her desk. At these three words, she stopped and turned to face the man head on. “And what on earth have you got to tell me about my son?”

He gulped, “Well… I was a bit worried because. Well, as you know Sherlock is one now yet he hasn’t spoken a word yet.”

“Yes I know, he’ll get to it when he’s good and ready.”  
“But, maybe we should--” Stapleton countered.

“When he is good. and. ready.” Violet spoke in a short clipped tone. “Now if you’re done, there is an algorithm I’d like to get back to.” She smiled and slammed the door in Stapleton’s face.

“That went well,” He thought.

He headed swiftly back to the nursery where Sherlock was fast asleep and smiled at Mycroft who too was fast asleep in the corner.

Stapleton smiled to himself and sat down in the wooden rocking chair next to Sherlock’s cot. The sweet caress of sleep had almost fully captured him when a sharp cry brought him back to reality.

“I am way too old for this,” Stapleton muttered to himself.

* * *

 

Sherlock Holmes did not speak until the ripe old age of three. Sure, he gave every indication of being an intelligent and healthy child yet he refused to make that final step. When he did, he leapt in astoundingly, with full sentences and few mistakes in his pronunciation.

Violet and William insisted he simply wanted a full study of the English language before he made his show as a speaking individual, as was the Holmes way. From then on out Sherlock was a loud and vibrant toddler. He had so much to think about the world and he would never cease to say it.

On one warm Summer day, Sherlock was out exploring the Holmes’ ground with Mycroft in tow. Mycroft always had a marked propensity towards the quieter things in life. He enjoyed, reading learning and observing. Sherlock, on the other hand, enjoyed the taste of the extraordinary on his tongue. As Mycroft sat reading a book about Louis XIV, his brother was dashing about in the creek that ran behind their house.

“Look Mycroft, I’m a pirate!” The five-year-old stood on a particularly large rock, wild dark curls flowing in the wind, eyes bright and trusting, holding a stick in the air. “Arr matey.Come fight me you scurvy dog!”

Mycroft briefly looked up from his book, unamused. “Sherlock,” he drawled. “That is completely historically inaccurate. You might want to reconsider your future career paths because you truly are an abysmal pirate.”

Sherlock frowned at this, surprised by his lack of support. “Fine, you don’t need any of my booty anyway.”

Mycroft scoffed and turned the page.  
“Myyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyke!” Sherlock yelled.

“What Sherlock?” He slammed down his book and sat up at full attention, surprised to see a pair of wide gray eyes inches away from his face. They both immediately burst out into laughter and rested upon a rock to keep them stable.

When their laughter finally subsided, Sherlock laid his head upon his brother’s shoulder and spoke, “Mycroft?”

“Hm?’

“Will you read to me and Redbeard when we get back?”

Mycroft chuckled and responded immediately, “What shall it be? The Steadfast Tin Soldier or Hansel and Gretel?”

Sherlock paused for a moment, in thought, “Mmm… The Steadfast Tin Soldier. I’ve always wanted one of my own.”

Mycroft smiled and took his little brother’s hand, tugging him to indicate it was time to go. They walked back to their house hand in hand, spirits high.

“One day, I’m sure you will.”

Sherlock simply smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back and worse than ever!  
> No editing, no beta-ing. Just pure unadulterated trash. 
> 
> I had all but given up on this story. but something told me to come back and give it a shot. So please COMMENT, and remind me why I started this in the first place. This time, I am certain we will make it to the finish line.

**Author's Note:**

> Chapters should be posted every Wednesday.  
> Special thanks to...  
> daisyavalin.tumblr.com for taking over the britpicker spot and doing a lovely job of it.  
> and Raven for being a fabulous beta and the greatest friend out there!  
> Most importantly thank you for taking the time to read my little fic. :)


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